


Scentless Perfume

by EllieWan



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Cheesy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light-Hearted, M/M, Polyspetsnaz, Poor plot, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27589784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieWan/pseuds/EllieWan
Summary: Fuze is hired to kill Glaz, who is hired to kill Kapkan, who is hired to kill Tachanka, who is hired to kill Fuze.What could go wrong? :')
Relationships: Maxim "Kapkan" Basuda/Timur "Glaz" Gazkov/Shuhrat "Fuze" Kessikbayev/Alexsandr "Tachanka" Senaviev
Comments: 13
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please accept some light-hearted polyspetsnaz action-fluff.  
> \+ Special thanks to [kiki_92 ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiki_92) for setting afloat the polyspetsnaz ship and such great fics :')  
> \+ Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing.

> The first touch landed on your soulmate,  
>  Will be for your body a sacred memory to display,
> 
> And till that blessed mark tattoos both of your skins,  
>  A calling in the form of a dizzy spell will drop you hints,  
>    
>  But fear not - for, once the bond is complete,  
>  That aura a powerful magic will bring.  
>    
>  And stay hopeful, _for Fate likes to trick._

“So?" Shuhrat became impatient.

The old gas station lady gave him a dirty look, but shook her head:

“Never seen him. Would have recalled a pair of blue eyes like this one.”

Shuhrat grabbed the photo and put it back in his pocket. He paid for his gas and added a chocolate bar from the shelf, because why not? The woman was still staring at him with an uncomfortable look on her face, but Shuhrat didn't care, he knew he looked like a serial killer but... well, he was one. He was currently on the trail of Timur "Glaz" Glazkov from the Vladivostok mafia. His contractors had told him that there was a good chance that he was in a hideout a little further north of the Primorsky Krai, in a remote village not far from a toothpaste factory dating from the Soviet era. This is where the Vladivostok mafia was storing all kinds of crap that were shading his contractors’ business.

He put the chocolate bar in his pocket, leaving the station to go to his car. But when he opened the door, he almost ran into someone. He managed to step away just in time to avoid touching the man. But his face immediately caught his attention; white, mature, with crow's feet at the sides of his eyes, fine lines at the corner of his lips, light-colored eyes and almost white blond eyebrows. And a luminous smile full of warmth. Shuhrat pursed his lips and lowered his eyes, mumbling a "Watch out" as he quickly walked to his car.

But something was calling him to turn around, there was something strange about this man, something familiar perhaps? He shook his head and grabbed a sponge with a small bucket of soapy water to clean his windshield.

* * *

Aleksandr immediately recognized his target: Shuhrat "Fuze" Kessikbayev. Those thick dark eyebrows, his black smoky hair, his round silhouette and his killer, scowling look. It had been easier than expected to find him, but at the same time, there weren't a thousand gas stations in the region, and it was very likely to stop there when you wanted to cross this Far Eastern part of Russia. Aleksandr followed him with his eyes and hastened to go and pay for his gas, and questioned the cashier:

“Took him long enough to pay. What was he looking for?”

“It's none of my business." The lady replied, cashing in his change and gnashing her teeth.

Aleksandr put another bill on the counter:

“What was he looking for?” he repeated.

She squinted at him, but discreetly accepted the bribe:

“A man. Blue eyes. Dark hair. Weird beard. He said nothing else.”

He thanked her and left to join his target. He wasn't going to kill him here, in front of this woman whose children were hanging around the shelves looking for entertainment, not to mention that other cars might come and stop there. And moreover... he felt weird. In a playful mood maybe? It had been a long time since Aleksandr had played with his prey.

He came to stand near Fuze, who looked at him dirty from the corner of his eye and willingly ignored him. But there was something in his aura, like a scentless perfume; Aleksandr felt attracted to something about him, but was unable to put his finger on what.

"Long road ahead?” he asked.

“None of your business." Fuze grumbled.

Aleksandr couldn't help but take a few steps closer to Fuze, as if to smell him and-

“Stop fucking right here." Fuze ordered him, discreetly pointing a gun at him.

Aleksandr laughed and spread his hands as a sign of surrender:

“Sorry, sorry, I just wanted to make conversation.”

“I-I don’t. So... go away.”

He noticed that Fuze was shaking slightly and it was weird. How could a cold-blooded murderer tremble at the mere thought of pointing his gun at a pseudo-innocent man like him? Fuze looked at him frowning, as if he himself was confused, and he threw the sponge in the bucket. He lowered his gun and got into his car. And Aleksandr let him do so without the slightest protest. He shook his head and noticed that his heart had started beating.

“Er, can’t wait to enjoy my retirement” He scoffed while getting back in his own car. “But not before getting the prize on your pretty head, _Shuhrat_.”

* * *

Timur watched the blond man's car drive away through his precision scope. It had been a curious interaction, between him and the man with coal-black hair. His attention had been totally consumed by the two men, his brain overwhelmed by a succession of details he couldn't sort through, as if they were of equal importance. The first one was older, grayish blond, wrinkles and a frank, warm and communicative laugh, a kind of solar aura. And the other was more sullen, taciturn, but there was something about him that made you want to bring a smile to his face.

Timur sighed and came to his senses. He would probably have to wait here all day, but he knew that Maxim "Kapkan" Basuda would surely stop at this station. He knew from his contacts that the Arctic Hunter was in the region, because he had recovered a contract that his mafia wanted to get their hands on. And that had been the last straw for them; they had sent Timur to personally take care of the hunter to eliminate the competition. But Timur had to admit that he felt a bit “funny” when he thought about Kapkan’s portrait, whose features he already knew so well that he was able to draw his face just by memory. His dark eyes, his protruding jaw and especially the three scars that ran across his face: the paw of a bear. The legend said that it was better not to imagine the state of the bear after that and Timur had a little smile on the corners of his lips when thinking about it.

He waited something like 20 more minutes, and finally saw him arrive. He was doubtful at first, seeing a slightly arched figure, with a black hood and the glimpse of a telnyashka under his sweatshirt’s sleeves, but when the man started to fill his car and look for the surveillance cameras around him, Timur saw his face. And it was like a sudden flash of light, a glare in the sky. His heart pounded. He blamed it on the adrenaline of being able to make a perfect shot, since he had his head right in the crosshair after all and...

His gaze drifted along the hunter’s silhouette. He noticed the cargo pants gaping in his back despite his belt, which was promising an arched lower back with round and firm buttocks that filled his pants perfectly and ...

“ _Shit, shit, what am I thinking?"_ Timur shook himself.

Kapkan had already finished filling his car and went to pay for his gas, a sign that Timur hadn't even seen the time go by, and the hunter climbed back in his car. Timur quickly got back into position; he still had a pretty clean line, and at that distance he couldn't miss and...

He couldn't pull the trigger. The car started up before he managed to calm the strange tremor in his hands, he who never trembled in ordinary times.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Timur swore as he ran to his own car, hidden much further away, to catch up with the hunter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) I hope you liked this appetizer.  
> I hope the POV switching wasn't too harsh, there'll be lot of it and that's why I divided the fic into chapters.  
> Lemme know what you thought <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loooots of fighting in this one. Sorry if it's a bit messy!  
> \+ Sry for any mistake / weird phrasing, Lord Tachanka's legendary skin reveal has blurred my senses :')

Aleksandr drove for a little while, keeping a sufficient distance so as not to arouse Fuze's suspicions, but still, nothing that an acceleration for a few minutes couldn’t catch up. Worst case scenario, Fuze, would take him for a stalker, and he would stop to scare him off, which would make Aleksandr’s task easier. When he sensed that they were reaching a real desert, gradually leaving the highway, he took his machine gun out of its hiding spot and started to load it. He surprised himself wondering if he really had to kill the young Uzbek. His contract did not mention a reward for capture, and in fact he hadn’t even asked because, usually, dragging a living target across Russia was more trouble than anything.

Suddenly, a bullet whistled, breaking his rear window and lodging in the windshield. He quickly regained control of the steering wheel and looked in the rearview mirror; another car was coming at full speed and a man was pointing a gun at him.

“Oh, come on! Who the fuck is that?” Aleksandr grumbled.

He pressed the brake pedal to slow down and get to the man's level. Too bad for him, since Sasha had just reloaded his machine gun. He had to bend down when the man started shooting at him repeatedly, missing him, and Aleksandr responded with a burst from his machine gun as they came side by side. Sitting up quickly to take better aim, Aleksandr saw the man’s face and immediately recognized him even though he had never met him in the flesh: _Kapkan_ , the Arctic Hunter. With his bear claw scars on his face, his hood and... his pistol still pointed at him. Aleksandr fired first, and Kapkan had to bend down to protect himself:

"You weren’t on the list, _baby boy_.” Aleksandr shouted at him through his window, now shattered by the bursts of bullets. “But all you had to do was ask!”

The shooting continued, but there was something strange, a kind of anguishing and oppressive aura around the fight. Aleksandr felt like he was inhaling odorless but equally toxic gas, and it was as if his whole body was going numb. He swerved violently to bang his car against Kapkan’s, in the hope to break this shooting rhythm, then passed him. He turned back in his seat and repeatedly shot Kapkan’s front tires, successfully puncturing at least one of them. He then aimed at Kapkan's face, but Kapkan drew his gun first and fired a bullet that whistled along Aleksandr's ear.

Seeing in the rearview mirror that Kapkan's car was slowing down, under the effect of at least one of the punctured front tires, Aleksandr pressed on his gas pedal and got rid of Kapkan in just a few hundred meters. And when he was sure that the hunter couldn't catch him, he put his machine gun back on the passenger seat and pressed his fist against his beating heart, panting violently, as if he was having a panic attack.

He should have turned back and finished him off. With a bit of luck, there was a bounty on the hunter’s head too. And he couldn't just let him go if he was after him.

But why, for the first time in his career, he had neither the strength nor the desire for revenge?

* * *

Maxim revisited just about every swearword in the Russian language when he pulled over to the side of the road. There was no doubt that Tachanka had punctured one of his tires and the other front one didn't look any better. He started to take his tools out of his trunk, to change the flat tire, and tried to seal the second wheel as best he could with his anti-puncture foam. But he knew he would have to change that wheel too. At least he wasn't far from the toothpaste factory, and thus from the village where he was hoping to find some stuff and get a new one.

He was still busy with his second tire when a car pulled up behind his. He raised an eyebrow but remained open to the idea that it might be someone who just wanted to help him. And for a moment, the Machiavellian idea of just stealing the stranger’s spare tire crossed his mind, but the tires didn't match his car.

A man got out. White T-shirt and thick grey waist-long parka. He had short black hair, under a brown beret, and above all, wide blue eyes. Maxim dropped his tools at the sight of them.

"Hey there. Can I help you with something?” asked the stranger, coming closer.

Maxim remained speechless for a moment, just gazing at the man. He was beautiful, and there was a kind of warm and spicy aura around him. Maxim wanted to ask him who he was, what he did for a living, and all the things he wouldn't normally give a damn about; but just for a moment, he wished they could exchange their roles, so that he would be the one offering his help to the man in distress.

“Hm... sorry?" the man repeated because of Maxim's lack of response.

“Ah hum... Just... just one flat tire and the other not in great condition either.”

_Well, at least he doesn't seem to mind all the bullet holes in your door,_ Maxim thought.

“There's a town not too far away, near a toothpaste factory. There's a mechanic who could help you there.” The man replied with a smile.

He then came closer, and something weird reached Maxim’s nostrils; he wanted to snuggle up against the man’s white T-shirt as if it was some fresh clean and warm laundry and... He shook his head to try to gain back his senses:

“Y-Yeah, I know.”

The man rummaged through his coat, but Maxim was too busy noticing a rather surprising detail: the man had a scar on his iris. And he had heard of a Far Eastern assassin with a scarred iris.

“Hands up, where I can see them." the blue-eyed man ordered, pointing his gun at Maxim.

_Well, fuck that._

“What do you want?" Maxim replied in an acerbic tone, angry at himself for letting his guard down for a pair of beautiful eyes and an indescribable odorless fragrance.

“I want your head.”

The man came closer, almost sticking the gun against Maxim's belly, but his hand was surprisingly shaking.

“Well, take it?" Maxim snorted nonchalantly.

“It's double if I bring you back alive.”

“Ah... Well, too bad for you then.”

Maxim suddenly banged his fists on the assassin’s hand, knocking the gun out of his hands, and stroke him right in the jugular with the side of his palm. The man was immediately stunned, but grabbed Maxim's other hand before it stroke his jaw and twisted his arm until he could push Maxim against the car. But Maxim willingly followed the movement, and gave a powerful kick to the man's knee, who crumbled forward. Maxim took the opportunity to hit him in the temple, knocking the man down, as his stunned body fell unconscious to the ground.

Maxim also fell on his buttocks, his legs suddenly giving up on him and a violent spasm pinching him in the heart. He felt like he was having a heart attack, his heart contracting abnormally in his chest, and if it wasn't for the steam coming out of his mouth in the freezing cold, he would have thought he couldn’t breathe anymore. He stood up on shaky legs and even his left arm was stinging, like after 4 hours of tattooing on thin skin. Yet the man had no knife and had hardly hit him there.

He got back in his car and quickly went back on the road. And it was only after long minutes that he regained full control of his body and a normal breathing. And that's when he also realized that he hadn't even considered killing the guy. He hit his head on the headrest: _What a fucking idiot. I should have slashed his tires, smashed his battery... put a fucking bullet between his stupid blue eyes! If he finds me again… What the fuck was I thinking?!_

* * *

When Shuhrat finally arrived in the lost village of Ternistyy, after passing a few mountains, he was not frankly surprised to find a village with old concrete buildings in poor condition, a lot of organized junk, and rather than real stores, small local stalls run by grandmothers selling jars of pickles. He spotted a kind of garage at the entrance, which was even selling a few cans of gasoline. He then glimpsed at something that looked like an inn a little further away. He parked his car at the back of it, and went inside.

A man with greasy hands came to greet him:

"Hello sir?”

"Hello. I would like a place to stay for a few nights.”

“Of course, you would. It is to enjoy the ski slope of Vostok?”

Shuhrat remembered seeing it on his map, an old ski resort about thirty kilometers to the north.

“Yes,” he lied. “Do you also serve food?”

“Yes, of course we do. Nothing too crazy, but enough to fill your stomach for a day of winter sports, don't worry.”

“And are there things to see around here?”

“Erf, I'm afraid that apart from the toothpaste factory, we're just a quiet little village. But don't hesitate to go for a walk in the forest, there are some nice mushrooms at this time of the year.”

Shuhrat was about to show Glaz's picture, but he knew that with the Vladivostok mafia in the area, even a civilian like the man in front of him was not to be trusted. So, he paid for part of his stay, and then returned to his car through the back door, closing it behind him.

But that's when he felt a violent blow to the back of his head, and he fell head first into the dry mud. A hand grabbed his shoulder to turn him over, and he kicked forward in a reflex, hitting his opponent in the abdomen, and forcing him backwards.

He recognized him as the blond man from the gas station. He had followed him here, and that's when he understood. He wasn't a stalker. _He was an assassin too._

Shuhrat put his palms to the ground to go back on his feet, but an abrasive pain gripped his left elbow. Maybe he'd fallen on it badly and broken something? And surprisingly, the other man was looking at his own arm too, but there was a weird fresh tattoo on it, like a soulmate mark. Shuhrat got up, but the man dashed on him again. Shuhrat tried to dodge him and put his knee into his belly, but the man tackled him with the charge of an animal against the wall behind him, and Shuhrat saw stars when his head banged on the makeshift air vent of the building. He tried to strike with the tip of his elbow between the man's shoulder blades, but a punch in the belly took his breath away and caused him to bend in half and fall to his knees, out of breath and unusually nauseous. He struggled to keep his head cool, and when he tried to get up, a handkerchief soaked in chloroform was pressed against his mouth and nose. He scratched the man's forearms, but forced to inhale the substance, soon everything became foggy and he felt his eyes rolling in their sockets before it all went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe now who's in deep sh*t because they've just knocked their soulmate out?  
> We'll see how they deal with this situation in the next chapter, probably tomorrow :')  
> Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, sry for any mistake / weird phrasing :)  
> Smutty-ish content ahead, especially in the Kapkan POV part.

When Maxim arrived at Ternistyy, he was first of all relieved to find a small garage. He stopped there immediately, and the man began to change his broken wheel without further ado. Maxim took the opportunity to go search for some information while he waited, but was frankly surprised by the villagers' stares on him. He knew that his scar was ugly and remarkable, but it seemed that it wasn't so much the scar that was worrying the villagers; but just his presence. Maybe they were all under the thumb of the Vladivostok mafia and were going to sell him out? He knew they had a hideout in the area, and with the blue-eyed sniper on his tail, he was playing with fire, wandering those parts.

But he knew he was close to Tachanka. The man was anything but discreet and delicate, and for a hunter like him it was godsent. He entered what seemed to him to be an inn, and a man greeted him with embarrassment.

"H-Hello, can I help you?”

“Yes, I'm looking for someone. “

“Ah hum... I... it's just that it's a small village here, not many foreigners come and...”

Maxim placed a few bills on the innkeeper's table, keeping his hand on the bundle. Maxim replied:

“He’s tall, sturdy, white blond, mature, greenish eyes, blue telnyashka, scar on the right side of his skull. He has a gray car, perforated with impacts on the right side.”

The man hesitated for a long time, his hands shaking, but after a last look at the bills, he finally confessed:

“He came by half an hour ago. He... He was looking for an Uzbek who had just arrived. I think they argued in the back but they... left together. There's still the Uzbek car behind the house.”

“Which way did they go?”

“They took the road to Vostok, north through the forest.”

Maxim released his hand, and the man timidly grabbed the bills. Maxim left without a word and returned to his car. It was waiting for him in front of the garage, but the mechanic was nowhere to be seen. As he had paid earlier, he didn't care, and started driving in the indicated direction.

The forest was dense, and the road was not the newest; it was a good thing that he had changed his tires. He accelerated a little in the hope to catch up the distance that separated him from Tachanka, whishing that his trajectory would remain predictable. But he was wondering: who had Tachanka picked up in this lost village? An Uzbek? A partner? It sounded weird, because Tachanka never worked with other people: he was sometimes even referred to as the Lone Wolf.

But what was also weird and much more real, was the strange rattle coming from his car. Maxim frowned and slowed down slightly, but the rattling persisted, and it was not normal; it didn't make that noise before. Had the mechanic done something? He leaned over and identified the origin of the noise as being under his dashboard. It was ticking, like a homemade bomb and-

He opened his eyes wide with realization, and suddenly jumped out of his car. And twenty meters further, it exploded. He took out his pistol by reflex and looked all around him, but he saw nothing until something drew his attention: there was a red laser dot on his shirt. He ran and jumped headfirst into the forest, hiding in a bush. He dipped his hand in mud and painted his face with it, and luckily, he was wearing his khaki pants and a dark sweatshirt which allowed him to blend in the bush, in the shadow of a tall and sturdy tree.

"Come out of your hiding place, baby bear" called a voice, which he recognized immediately as the sniper’s, a strange heat spreading in his chest.

 _Fucking pain in the ass_ , Maxim grumbled to himself. He made himself as discreet as possible, blending into the scenery until he made no more noise, controlling his breathing so as not to create any movement in the foliage.

"Do you know what an artist and a sniper have in common? Details."

 _Great, and on top of that he was getting a fucking monologue_.

"Like when a touch of color is out of place. When a shadow does not match with its surroundings."

But there was still something in that voice, a kind of warm vibration and Maxim wanted to hear more of it.

"Or when a shape is not where it is supposed to be. The only difference is the stakes."

Maxim saw the red laser dot coming dangerously close to his hiding place, like the glare of a lighthouse searching for a boat in the dark.

"Mine are higher."

The red dot stopped on him. And Maxim widened his eyes: how could the man have spotted him hiding in this bush, in the shadow of a tree?!

"Come out of your hiding place, or I'll shoot you dead.”

“If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it sooner.” Maxim replied.

“I've already told you that your living ass is worth twice as much. And I want to make sure of something first.”

The sniper approached slowly; his rifle still pointed at Maxim to the point where the red laser was dazzling him. But the closer the man got, the more Maxim's hands trembled on his gun. And his heart began to beat abnormally fast. _Was he that afraid of dying?_

“I won't repeat it, get out of there," demanded the man. “Drop your weapon, and get on your knees. Hands where I can see them.”

Maxim slowly came out of his hiding place with his hands in the air and dropped his gun.

"Good boy, now on your knees. And hands on your head. No funny business.”

Maxim glared at him and reluctantly kneeled, humiliation washing over his face. The man continued to move forward, his rifle still aimed at him, and the closer he got, the more Maxim's vision became... disturbed? His eyes focused on the man's skin, white and covered with a few moles here and there, more than the average, his beard sharply trimmed but which sculpted his face and brought out his features and... his blue eyes that had hypnotized him the first time. Everything else, pistols, magazines, ammunition belt, seemed secondary. Even the rifle that was still pointed at him.

The man stopped two meters away from him and asked:

"Roll up your left sleeve. I want to see the hollow of your elbow.”

Maxim raised an eyebrow at him.

“Don't make me repeat.” the sniper insisted.

Maxim snorted, and slowly brought his hand to his telnyashka, gently rolling it up to his elbow before putting his hands back on his head. The man watched carefully, and his eyes opened wide:

"I knew it... For fuck sake, what a mess...!” he grumbled as he let his rifle down.

Maxim frowned and looked at his own elbow where there was... a soulmate mark. And when the fuck did it appear? Maxim had touched his soulmate and not bonded with them? He stared at the mark with mesmerized eyes; it was a strange runic symbol, mystical, kind of spherical but only half of it was full. The man sighed and rolled up his own sleeve, and that's when Maxim understood. The man had the same mark.

He was his soulmate.

“A-Are you going to kill me?" Maxim stuttered, his voice shaking though he was trying his best to stay composed.

The sniper snorted, rolling his eyes, and put his rifle on his shoulder. He took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, opened it and tapped it, but none fell out.

“Fuck, I forgot to buy some more with all that mess... “

“I have some.” Maxim replied, still kneeling, hands in the air. “My right pocket. Next to my throwing knives.”

The sniper raised an eyebrow and crouched down in front of him, Maxim kept his hands up and the sniper started searching Maxim’s pocket. Immediately, a warm and comforting aura enveloped them and like a hormonal call, Maxim felt hypnotized, he could no longer think clearly and he almost closed his eyes, drown in a drowsy aura urging him to press his body to the other man.

“D’you feel that, too?" asked the sniper.

“Y-Yeah. The soulmate aura.”

The sniper smirked and suddenly grabbed Maxim’s knees from behind, and pulled them violently towards himself. Maxim tipped over and fell on his back, his head hitting the root of a tree. In a reflex, he tried to send a hook to the sniper, but his newly found soulmate raised his forearm to stop him and pinned Maxim’s arms to the ground… and threw his lips on his. It was animal, beastly, instinctive, but Maxim was completely stunned by the aura and immediately responded back to the kiss by opening his mouth more, mixing his tongue with the sniper’s. He slid an arm around his blue-eyed soulmate, and tried to tilt him to the ground. But the sniper cupped his jaw severely and planted a knee between Maxim’s thighs to keep him in place, and Maxim choked a moan to the contact on his crotch.

They continued to fight for dominance and about fifteen minutes later Maxim ended up face down and cheek pressed to the ground, with the sniper's lips on his neck, his now naked thighs banging against Maxim’s in a resonant slapping sound as Maxim was groaning with pleasure. His hands were clutched to the sniper's, lovingly, tenderly, despite the completely deranged animality of their encounter. One of the sniper's hands slipped out to reach for Maxim's hair and pull his sweat-soaked strands out of his forehead:

"Are you okay?" the sniper murmured as if he was afraid of hurting him.

“I don’t know, do I sound not okay?” Maxim said between two moans.

The sniper chuckled and pressed a wet kiss on the nape of Maxim’s neck, thrusting back into him.

“My name is Timur by the way. Timur Ruslanovich Glazkov.”

“M-Maxim. Maxim Vassilevich Basuda.”

Timur smiled, nibbling Maxim’s ear:

“I know.”

* * *

Aleksandr sighed and stopped, pulling the car aside. He pressed his forehead to the steering wheel, between his clenched hands, and closed his eyes. He could feel it, the soulmate mark and the weight that went with it. The guy he had just locked in the trunk of his car and had to kill was… his soulmate. And he couldn't do that. Even _he_ couldn't do that. Sure, he had lived for decades, almost half a century without a soulmate; he'd even given up hope of finding them, and anyway, he'd convinced himself that he didn't need one, but now... he was doubting everything.

It was so beautiful to find one’s soulmate. Beyond falling in love with a beautiful person who was _the_ perfect match for you, it was finally having the certainty and the plenitude of knowing you are loved _and_ will love someone for the rest of your life, sharing everything with them and merging like if both of you were sharing one same beating heart. Was he really ready to deny himself that for a suitcase of money?

He thought back to the dark eyes and the sad silhouette of his soulmate. His thick black eyebrows furrowed as if he had never come out of a traumatic mourning, his hands in his pockets and his scowling look, drowned in too large clothes, probably because he was ashamed of his gorgeous curves. All he wanted to do was take him in his arms, caress his eyebrows to relax his sad muscles, pull on his cheeks to gently bring out a smile, cover his body with caresses and whisper in the hollow of his ear how much he loved him.

Aleksandr shook his head and hit the dashboard with his fist, swearing. He took a deep breath and got out of the car. He walked towards the trunk and immediately, as he approached his soulmate, the aura disturbed his senses and clouded his thoughts. He opened the trunk and found his soulmate still asleep. Blood had spilled where his eyebrow arch had split and Sasha felt sick, _deeply sick_ , nauseous, at the thought that it was him who had harmed his soulmate. How could he have raised his hand on him? Even if they were enemies, what kind of monster was he to come to this? And to lock him up in that shabby trunk where he was probably breathing badly, his mouth taped shut like a worthless common criminal and...

Sasha gently grabbed his soulmate and carried him to the back seat where he lied him down. He thought he heard him moaning against the piece of tape, and removed it as gently as he could so as not to pull at his stubble. He then took out his knife to cut the ties, but it was at that moment that his soulmate woke up.

His eyes, dark and almond-shaped, widened when he saw the knife, but he said nothing and remained motionless, as if he was waiting for Sasha's reaction to know whether or not he should struggle.

"I... I don't want to hurt you. Just let me cut your ties.” Sasha told him.

Shuhrat said nothing, his slightly furrowed brows speaking for him. He didn't trust him, but stayed still and let Aleksandr bring the blade close to his wrists. Strangely enough, Aleksandr heard Shuhrat's heartbeat accelerate, as if he was hearing his own heart, and he realized that this was one of the other side effects of the aura.

“You don't have to be afraid." He said to reassure him.

“I'm not afraid." Shuhrat replied sharply.

“I can hear your heart beating faster.”

“That's not fear. That's adrenaline. In case I have to turn this knife against you.”

Aleksandr couldn't hold back a chuckle. His soulmate had guts. He loved it.

“You won’t need to. I just want to cut you free.”

“Why did you tie me up in the first place, then?”

“I panicked.“

Aleksandr finished removing his ties and put away his knife. The Uzbek massaged his wrists, looking at him attentively, and remained silent. Aleksandr sighed as he unconsciously put a hand on the thigh of his soulmate, whose heart quickened again.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“You have a weird way to show it, then.”

“I... I didn't realize that you were... my soulmate.”

Shuhrat's eyes opened wide, and vulnerability finally appeared on his face:

“S-So it's true?” he stammered, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the mark.

Aleksandr nodded silently, tracing Shuhrat's skin with his fingertips, sending electricity through them.

“Why does it look half empty?” Shuhrat mumbled.

“I don't know," Aleksandr confessed. “Maybe the full part represents me and the clear part would be you? Like a ying and yang.”

“Maybe.”

Aleksandr smiled and could not help but caress Shuhrat's cheek. But the younger winced to the contact:

“What's the matter?” Aleksandr asked with worry.

“N-nothing it's just a little... sore there.”

“I have some cream for bruises if you want.”

“I'm not going to spread cream on my face." Shuhrat grumbled.

Aleksandr pulled his hand away, but Shuhrat quickly caught it back:

“ ...but your hand is cool and it sounds weird but the contact... sort of helps? You can leave it there... if that's okay?”

Aleksandr smiled at him and pressed his hand back to his cheek, as Shuhrat leaned in, looking at him with drugged eyes. Aleksandr let his thumb run on Shuhrat’s lips and his small scar across his mouth. Shuhrat instinctively opened his mouth at the contact and Aleksandr’s thumb explored the inner and wet part of his lips, pink and chubby.

“You’re so beautiful.” Aleksandr murmured.

Shuhrat blushed and looked down. Aleksandr smiled at Shuhrat's timid face and leaned forward. The aura around them was both dense and light, it was like swimming through a fog of bliss, and the closer he got to Shuhrat, the more his heart started beating at the same rhythm, until it was on the very same frequency; the bond was creating. He placed his lips on Shuhrat’s before he realized it himself, and Shuhrat responded shyly by slipping a hand behind the nape of Aleksandr's neck, who put a knee between his thighs so as not to fall on him, even though the aura was shouting at him to snuggle up against him until both of their bodies were one.

“I don't know how, but we're going to make it, Shuhrat.” He murmured between two kisses “I know we will.”

“I have an idea.” Shuhrat whispered “My target, Glaz. From the Vladivostok mafia. He should be at Ternistyy.”

"You'd recognize him easily?"

"Yeah, I have a photo of him. And I know what car he drives. It should be easy, and... "

Aleksandr raised his eyebrows, stroking Shuhrat’s cheek while listening to him:

“ ...it's double if I bring his head back. Enough money to live peacefully for a while.”

“His head, meaning bringing him alive?” Aleksandr replied.

Shuhrat shook his head:

“No. His head, as in, _literally_.”

Aleksandr smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It couldn't be that easy, right? :')  
> Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing :)

Timur placed a kiss in Maxim's hair, who was lying between his legs, on the back seat of the car. There wasn’t much room, but they didn’t mind being glued to each other. Maxim was stroking Timur’s knees lovingly, and with his eyes closed, he was drowsing in the euphoric and soothing aura of their new, fragile bond. Timur put his arms around Maxim's shoulders, closing his wrists at his plexus and holding him tight, placed another kiss on his head.

"You still blew up my car.” Maxim pouted.

“It was for a good cause." Timur replied, rubbing his cheek against Maxim's hair like a cat marking its territory with hormones.

“I could have died.” Maxim replied.

“Nope. I knew you were too smart for that, I just wanted to get you out of there.”

“You pointed your rifle at me.”

“You knocked me out first.”

“You wanted to kill me.”

“But I changed my mind.”

But instead of warming his heart, this cue reminded Maxim of the complicated situation they were in:

“So, did the guys from Vladivostok pay you to kill me?”

“They didn't pay me. They just gave me the contract,” Timur explained, stroking Maxim's hair. “I don't owe them anything.”

“So, you're just going to tell them that you let me go? Your boss will suspect something...”

“My boss is my sister.”

“You’re Aliya Alekseiev's brother?”

“Yes, baby bear.”

“And you're sure she won't send other assassins to kill the annoying soulmate who stole her brother’s heart?”

“Nah. She respects soulmates, she has met hers. But enough talking about me. What about you, you were after someone, weren't you? I saw the bullet holes in your car.”

“You're not gonna believe this... “

“Try me.”

“I’m after Tachanka.”

Timur opened his eyes wide and a heavy silence filled the car:

“Tachanka as in _Tachanka_ , the Lone Wolf, one of the most experienced and dangerous hitmen of Eurasia?”

“I had good intel. And do you remember when we met near the highway? I was just coming out of a shooting with him. And frankly, I almost had him, but he had ruined both my front tires and fled.”

“He… fled? He didn't come back to finish you off?" Timur questioned.

“No, he didn't. I don't know why, it surprised me too.”

“I guess the prize on his head is something alright?”

“Yeah... Enough to live quietly for at least 5 years. He's too much competition to the group that hired me, they can't take it anymore. Why pay a mafia when you can just pay a one-man army?”

“And what does he look like? We could try to catch him together.”

“I would have shown you a picture, _had someone not blown up my car!”_

“Oooh, don’t be like that, baby bear.”

And Maxim hated how he melted to those words.

“He's tall, sturdy, big muscles, blond almost white. He has a lot of little scars on his face, it makes little white and pink lines on his skin. And his eyes are... green? I don’t know, they have a strange color; deep but almost... changing? He stopped at Ternistyy but apparently, he left with an Uzbek and-“

“Wait, wait...!" Timur exclaimed.

“What?”

“A muscular man, blond almost white, mature, with green eyes, and an Uzbek... with raven black hair and a killer look…?”

“You seem to know very well who I'm talking about?”

“I saw them. Both of them. At the gas station where you stopped… I have a bad feeling about this.”

Timur gently pushed Maxim to rush to the front of his car, and pulled a gun out of his glove box:

“What's going on?” Maxim questioned.

“There's an Uzbek assassin in the area. _Fuze_. My guys told me to be careful, they got wind that he was on my tail...”

“Do you think it was him with Tachanka?”

“I just find it suspicious that an assassin known for his solitary work just happened to end up in Ternistyy with an Uzbek, knowing that there's a bounty on my ass.”

“But then that would mean... “

“That I'm next on the list.”

And as if on command, a car appeared in the distance.  
And Maxim recognized it immediately:

“It's Tachanka's car!" he cried.

Glaz threw the gun at him and retrieved his sniper. He stormed out of the car, leaving the door open in the hope of using it as protection and aimed at the car in the distance. As he fired, Tachanka braked and drifted the car till it was stopped sideways, using it as a protective barrier. Another man got out and fired bursts of AK in their direction.

"Max! There's a 9×19VSN in the trunk!" Timur shouted.

Maxim nodded and went to grab the machine gun, and closing the trunk, looked out through the rear window:

“Fuck, they brought out the heavy artillery, they really want your ass.” Maxim grumbled.

“Tell me about it! And we’re protected like shit, should’ve kept our plate carriers... Urgh I hate this.”

A bullet ricocheted off the door and Timur blinked. It had been a close one. He waited for Fuze to reload and when it was time, he leaned over and aimed in the direction of the Uzbek, but his hands were shaking, and he missed him. Maxim leaned over to the other side of the car and fired in the direction of Tachanka, but the distance was such that the bullet drop aborted all his bullets.

“D’you have anything more long-distance? The bullet drop is horrible!”

“No. But I still have some smoke grenades under the front seat, I can see through it with my scope and maybe it can allow us to move the car forward and cross some distance.”

Maxim nodded his head and with a quick gesture managed to open the rear door. Tachanka shot it and Maxim waited until he had to reload to search under the passenger seat.

But when he did, he was suddenly overwhelmed by a violent stinging pain in his rib.

“Fucking sh-!”

“Maxim?!!” Timur yelled. “Maxim are you hurt?!”

Maxim dragged himself back behind the car and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, pressing his hand against his rib and feeling a warm, viscous liquid slip through his fingers.

"Maxim, answer me!”

“Yeah, I'm... shot.”

Timur rushed towards him, between several bursts, and crouched down in front of Maxim, who was sitting, leaning against the trunk, his face sweaty.

"Oh no, no, no... Let me see, is the bullet still inside?”

“Y-Yeah, I don’t think it... came out.”

“Oh shit, shit, shit, shit no... Fuck!... My medical kit is in the front, I... “

Maxim grabbed his shoulder:

“Hey. It's okay. It-it's an occupational hazard.”

“Are you serious?! Are you saying goodbye to me now?”

“They caught us... by surprise. They're better equipped and the bullet... there's no hospital here.”

“No, no, no, stop right fucking there Maxim, you’re not going to die!”

Maxim tried to push him back, but Timur stayed in place.

“Save yourself. Don't worry about me.”

“But Maxim, I can't leave you... You're... You're my soulmate.”

“Yeah it sucks, we didn't have much time, but it was good, right?“

Maxim coughed and blood came out of his mouth, splashing on Timur's cheeks. The bursts of bullets had stopped, and a hoarse voice echoed:

"It's over, boys. Come out of your hiding place, now!”

But Timur didn't take his eyes off Maxim, tears filling his blue irises. He placed his lips on Maxim's lips, not caring about the taste of blood that soaked his taste buds and dyed his own lips red.

Timur then threw his sniper far, far away, and Maxim widened his eyes:

“Wh-What the fuck are you doing?”

Timur answered nothing and took a deep breath. He stood up and... raised his hands in a sign that he was surrendering. Maxim panicked:

"What are you doing? They're going to kill you!”

“I can't get them alone, Max. It's the only option left... “

“Don’t you fucking dare, Timur!”

But Timur left their hiding spot, head down, eyes in tears, hands on his beanie:

"I surrender!" he cried in a broken voice. “I-I... surrender... “

“Let me see your hands!" yelled the Uzbek.

Timur spread his hands to show them that he was totally unarmed. And his poor, unprotected white shirt, which Maxim's blood had spattered, spoke for itself.

“Please..." he continued. “I surrender and I... I'll do whatever you want. But he... he needs help. Please.“

Fuze and Tachanka approached slowly, squinting with a puzzled expression, keeping their guns pointed at Timur.

* * *

"Shuhrat?” Aleksandr asked. “What are you waiting for?”

But Shuhrat was at a loss. Something was wrong. The man in front of him, several meters away, was not just _Glaz_ , Vladivostok's formidable sniper and assassin. The murderous artist. He was a man, a broken human being, and he was crying, begging them to save the man who was with him. And Shuhrat was nauseous, and the closer he got, the more his hands trembled against his own rifle, while he’s always been of a rather insensitive nature when it came to his work. And there was this weird and painful pinch in his chest.

“I-I don't know," Shuhrat mumbled. “I have a weird feeling... “

“Let’s find out what he wants?" asked Sasha, who seemed to understand what Shuhrat was talking about.

Shuhrat nodded his head and the sniper begged them again:

“I beg you... I'll do whatever you want. Anything. I'll tell you anything you want to know, I'll go wherever you want, I'll-“

“On your knees! And why are you making such a fuss? Who's with you?" Shuhrat asked in a voice less assertive than he would have liked.

“M-My soulmate... “

Shuhrat and Aleksandr exchanged a surprised look. They, better than anyone else, now understood the power of the aura of a soulmate, the power of the bond that could turn the world's worst enemies into eternal lovers. They kept moving forward, and when they were a few steps away from the sniper, Shuhrat had a sudden urge to vomit. His throat tightened and he brought his fist to his mouth in a reflex, releasing the trigger of his AK.

“Where's your soulmate?” Aleksandr asked. “Behind the car?”

“Y-Yes... The first aid kit is at the front.”

“I didn't say I was going to save him." Aleksandr reminded him, however retrieving the medic kit from under the driver's seat.

Aleksandr went behind the car and was surprised to find _Kapkan_ , who had tried to kill him not that long ago. He raised an eyebrow, but when the hunter's eyes met his, he felt suddenly dizzy. A vertigo similar to the one he had felt when he had hit Shuhrat the very first time.

“Where are you hurt?" he simply asked. “Keep your hands where I can see them, no funny business.”

“If I take my hand away, I'll bleed to death, idiot." Maxim grumbled.

Aleksandr knelt down in front of him and opened the first aid kit. He kept a curious eye on the hunter whose face, tensed by the pain, was covered with sweat. He admired his scars, his eyes as black as two onyx, and it was as if he could see right through him. And that's when he realized: he could hear Kapkan's heart beating.

Just like Shuhrat’s.

He took the hunter’s left hand, the one that wasn’t pressed to the wound, and pulled on the telnyashka to reveal his mark. And it was the same, but on contact with their skins ... it filled with a third quarter and Aleksandr understood.

And all his dizzy confusion turned into an ocean of fear and sadness:

"Oh, fuck, no... “

He hastened to take care of Kapkan's wound, caught in an aura of panic.

“Sh-Shuhrat!" he cried. “We have a problem!”

“What's going on?" the Uzbek replied.

“The injured soulmate... It's Kapkan.”

”As in the Hunter?”

“Yes, and he's... he's our soulmate, Shuhrat.”

“Wh-what?!” Shuhrat exclaimed.

The sniper opened his eyes, completely confused and tried to get closer to Kapkan’s aura in a protective instinct, but Shuhrat put a firm hand on his shoulder to make him stay on his knees. And when he touched him, he immediately felt an electric shock and a now familiar itch in the crook of his elbow. Shuhrat dropped his gun and rushed to frantically pull on his sleeve until he revealed his mark: a third quarter was filling up right before his eyes.

“You're... you're..." Timur stammered.

“We’re soulmates... “

Shuhrat looked at his own hands and began to shake violently. He fell to his knees and felt a violent discomfort in his belly. The weight of guilt and horror suffocated him.

"Oh my God, I tried to... and Kapkan, he’s... he's going to..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I know, such a cliché cliffhanger, but I had too :')  
> Tomorrow last chapter, probably a smoll one to end this.  
> Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A smoll fluffy ending :)   
> \+ Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing.

What followed for Maxim was a total shadow puppet show. Shadows, shapes, danced before his eyes while everything had dimmed around him. He was in pain, he had blood in his mouth, and every breath was like an extra rip in his body. The bullet had punctured his lung, or so he heard.

And Tachanka was his soulmate. _What a mess._ Maxim tried to keep his eyes open, just to see him: Aleksandr Senaviev, his abnormally worried look and his face tensed up as if he too was in pain. Maxim had heard stories of polysoulmates before. One would recall that even if the anthem said _"Both of your skins",_ the simple closing was speaking for itself: _"…be careful, for Fate likes to trick.”_ Yeah. _Fuck that too._

“Hey, _Maxim_ , right?" Tachanka asked.

Maxim looked at him with exhausted eyes, and softly nodded his head.

"I’m Aleksandr.”

“ -know” Maxim hoarsely replied, blood dripping off his mouth.

“It's going to be okay, sweetheart, I promise.”

But Maxim snorted, rolling his eyes. If the bullet was lodged in his lung, he only had a few moments left, there was no point in lying to him, as if he was a poor unfortunate recruit on the fields. He closed his eyes, dazzled by the blinding light of the sky covered with a blanket of white clouds.

He felt a hand in his hair and on contact, a strange electricity ran through his body. He almost felt it running along his mouth till it sparkled on the tip of his lips; and it tickled. He thought he could feel his mark warming up, but he didn't have the strength to raise his arm nor turn his head to look at it.

"Maxim?"

It was a different voice. Fuze's. And it was surprisingly soft and warm. Warm, like Fuze’s hand in his hair that seemed to heat him up faster than a chimney fire, while the freezing cold of death kept calling out to him.

“Maxim, please hold on.” Fuze asked with a break in his voice.

“L-Like I can do something ‘bout it." Maxim grumbled.

Aleksandr replied something, which Maxim didn't understand, drowned in a conflicting aura, between the cold in his lungs, the warmth of Fuze's hand, the comforting voice of Tachanka, and soon, Timur's hand on his knee, which he recognized immediately even without opening his eyes. Soon he could no longer feel the wind on his cheeks, nor the gusts sweeping the damaged concrete of the road, nor the voices of his soulmates. He just felt... something enveloping him, and he dozed off.

With his eyes closed, he fell into an intermediate state. He saw mesmerizing kaleidoscopes dancing against his closed eyelids, which had become background canvases for a curious theater: golden threads - like amber membranes or thin mellifluous alveoli - were slowly connecting and weaving bonds. The resulting sheaths pulsed with a regular rhythm, like blood vessels. But the echo wasn't just a heartbeat; there was something magical about it.  
  


* * *

  
When he woke up, Maxim felt surprisingly good. He was no longer in pain, and he felt warm, comfortable, as if he was wrapped in a thick feather blanket, lying by a fire.

_Or was he?_

He didn't try to open his eyes, but continued to enjoy the comforting and invigorating warmth. Something moved next to him, and he realized that there was actually a pair of arms around him; one under his neck and one around his shoulders. But perhaps a third one was placed around his belly? And how could another hand be lost in his hair? And how could it be so nice, so soft, and soothing?

He gently opened his eyes after several minutes of dozing and tilted his head slightly to get a better glimpse at the person in front of him. And as amazing as it may seem, it was Shuhrat "Fuze" Kessikbayev. His almond-shaped eyes still closed, his black eyebrows and high cheekbones and... Maxim wanted to caress them with his fingertips. And his thin lips, his lighter scar crossing his pretty mouth and-

“Max?" mumbled Timur's voice in his neck. “You’re awake?”

Timur's hand, which was the one on his belly, moved up his body and stopped lovingly on Maxim’s chest.

“What happened?" Maxim asked.

Shuhrat opened his eyes and behind him appeared the drowsy face of Aleksandr, whose hand continued to caress Maxim’s hair while another hand rested on Shuhrat's love handle in an affectionate caress.

“You were hurt. How do you feel?" Aleksandr asked.

“I think... I'm okay. I feel a little euphoric.”

“It's the aura," Shuhrat explained as he placed his hand on Timur's hand on Maxim's chest. “It heals you by drawing energy from us through the bond and redistributing it.”

“The aura..." Maxim gently repeated.

Timur put a kiss on the nape of his neck.

“It’s stabilized, now that the bond is complete.”

“So, we’re really all soulmates?”

Aleksandr straightened up and showed the mark in the hollow of his elbow. It was indeed complete. Identical to his own. And it was beautiful, perfect; there was a strange magical euphoria looking at this mark. It was like looking at the greatest gift that had ever been given with the promise that it would never be taken away no disappear. To be loved forever and to love with so much passion in return. Maxim caressed Aleksandr's mark with his fingertips and rested his head back against the pillow, holding his hand. Timur, too far away from Aleksandr for his liking, snuggled some more to Maxim, pressing his hips against his, and straightened up just enough for Aleksandr to put a kiss on his lips. Then, they rested their heads on their respective pillows and Maxim declared:

"I love you all, but you still owe me a car, Timur.”

And they laughed.

> The first touch landed on your soulmate,  
> Will be for your body a sacred memory to display,
> 
> And till that blessed mark tattoos both of your skins,  
> A calling in the form of a dizzy spell will drop you hints,
> 
> But fear not - for, once the bond is complete,  
> That aura a powerful magic will bring.
> 
> And stay hopeful, _for Fate likes to trick._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love puppy piles u_u Anyway, this is it! Thanks for reading, I hoped you liked this story.   
> And once again, many thanks to kiki_92 for inspiring this :')   
> Have a nice day :D

**Author's Note:**

> Created [a Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/elliewan) where you can follow my writing journey and talk if you want :)


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